


Sweet Tooth

by TearoomSaloon



Series: Bite Down [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Branding, Bright Ball of Sunshine Rey, Comfort Sex, Dark Kylo Ren, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Possessive Kylo Ren, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, force bond sex, is that a tag? can that be a tag?, sad sex, wow I am so glad that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: No matter what happened, she was a beacon of light, piercing through his dark stormy sea. She never wavered, no matter how hard his waves crashed upon her shore.





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> "I took your counsel and came to ruin  
> Leave me to myself, leave me to myself
> 
> Hold me in your everlasting arms  
> Looked up, full of fear, trapped beneath a chandelier that’s going down"
> 
>  
> 
> This is the sweetest Bite Down entry that will ever exist

She is the fire that will burn him to cinders.

He’s never seen one quite like this before, so purely drenched in light. She does have her moments of darkness, of curling anger blossoming like nightshade in her chest. Those moments are rare and she is, for the most part, innocent. Every moment in her presence is like being seated too close to a hearth, blaze catching all his attention, heat blistering his skin.

Somehow, through all his malicious acts, through all the damage and havoc he’s wrought, she seems oblivious to his nature. His yellow eyes trail her hungrily and the only response she has is to smile, to lay her hand on his cheek. She asks how he slept, or how his day was if they meet at night. He feels like he’s corrupting her, but nothing he does seems to affect her goodness.

They share a Force bond. It’s fickle when he wants it to work to his advantage, their connections having no determinable reason for occurring when they do. She is physically present sometimes, others she is a wisp of an image, unable to touch or be touched. He hates those times, as they seem to only stir the loneliness in his chest to a simmer.

It’s surprising that she still lets him in. He’s killed his master and assumed the title of Supreme Leader. She was repulsed at first, had shut him out, but it took only his patience to bring her back. It had been a dark night, a painful night for them both.

 _Ben,_ she started, reaching out. He had caught her hand in his, pulled her through to his side of their connection.

_I’m here._

_It’s Leia. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._

He wasn’t sure how to react, hadn’t planned to hear those words, or see through her eyes what had happened. He had felt…crushed. Alone.

The mighty Skywalker line had been reduced to one lost, damaged soul. He’d cried in her arms that night, shedding tears for the first time since he’d mourned his father’s death. Snoke had been right—he has Han’s heart locked somewhere deep in ribs made of black iron and poisonous teeth.

 _I’ve got you_ , she crooned, kissing his forehead. Her arms had wrapped around his shoulders, the bulk of his body contorted to fit in the warmth and comfort of her embrace. His cold hands had covered hers. _You’re not alone. I’m here, Ben_.

His voice had been so choked, so strangled, so _foreign_. He sighed shakily. _Please don’t leave me._

She had stayed until the dawn before disappearing, their connection broken.

She’s the only one he hasn't killed for calling him Ben. The name doesn’t sound like it belongs to him anymore, but he loves the way it rolls from her tongue, the sweetness she presses into the short syllable.

But, she hasn’t called him that in a long time.

“Kylo.” It’s a singsong tone, stirring him from his concentration.

He’s reviewing plans Hux left for a support mission—he lets the ginger rat do what he wants, it’s the only thing that’s kept them from killing each other. “I’m busy.”

She’s there atop his desk now, grin wide on her face. He doesn’t know when they went from enemies to lovers, but he’s grateful for the switch.

“We fell together a few months after your mother passed,” she says, having been listening to his inner monologue. “It was the first time we kissed.”

She recalls it first, the memory odd to watch from her perspective. He’d reached to her for comfort out of a nightmare accidentally. He hadn’t meant it, thinking she didn’t reciprocate. But he found himself in her bed, not his, her arms around his neck.

 _Are you okay?_ was the first thing she asked.

He had backed away from her touch. _I’ll be okay soon._

 _Kylo, please, let me help._ Reliving the moment, he felt her frustration with him, her need to hold her poor, broken monster.

He had inched towards her and she pressed her lips to his, holding him close, her grip crushing.

In the present, he lays a hand on her thigh. His darkened heart feels warm in his chest. “You considered me yours then?”

“You’ve been mine since we touched hands.”

He waits for her to dip to kiss him, relishing how hungry she always is to pepper his cheeks. He’s certain this is one of few things that make him smile like a drunk, face flushed, gaze dreamy.

“You look so cute like this,” she says softly, moving her fingers through his messy hair.

“I feel like you’ve come here on a mission.” He runs his hands up the outsides of her thighs. “Care to enlighten me?”

“No ulterior motive, I just miss you.”

It’s been months since they’ve physically been in the same room without the aid of the Force. He doesn’t mind seeing her like this, but he knows it bugs her. She wants him tangible with her, waking beside her, able to kiss her whenever she asks. He wants to fulfill her wish, but the timing is bad. His temperament is bad. She’s fallen for such a dark creature, it seems unfair he should steal such light for himself. Sometimes he feels immense guilt for loving her, taking her from the possibility from a gentler lover, someone also basked in light. But he is selfish and he won’t give her up.

Besides, he knows she doesn’t want another in his place. She repeats it exasperatedly whenever he comes to her with his insecurities during the deeper more sleepless nights.

He looks down at his work. “You want me to do this later.”

“Thanks for getting the hint, it only took me sitting on your desk for you to pick it up. Carry me to bed?”

She is light as feathers in his arms. Her heart close to his has the intensity of a thousand suns, white hot and piercing more than he can withstand. He loves the sensation, though, loves how everything about her is a near perfect contrast to him. They were opposites but equal. Whole. She presses a kiss to the sliver of exposed skin on his neck and his nerves erupt into flower blossoms, coming alive with her touch.

Her kisses are so sweet they’re rotting his bones, putting caries in his teeth. He lies her down on his sheets and the way she looks up at him stops his heart. She’s too much, she’s just right.

He climbs atop her, letting her strip him of his layers. “I feel like it’ll break me, how much I belong to you.”

“I can feel it here.” She lays her hand on his bare chest, right above his heart. “It emanates out from you and hits me here.” She takes his hand and presses it to her breast. He can feel her heartbeat under his fingertips, her skin bare and warm.

She will burn him out of existence.

He likes this slow, without rush. He covers her with his body, laying in her arms for a moment before kissing down her neck. He gets to the soft skin of her belly before her hands are dragging his head up, pulling him in to kiss. Her smile against his lips is intoxicating.

“You’re so beautiful.” She kisses between his brows. “Can we just do this for a while?”

He doesn’t have the strength to say no. Her kisses are plentiful, spreading across his cheeks until they flip positions, his chest aching from the flutters chasing up his nerves. Straddling his waist, she has his hands pinned above his head in a light grip, lips decorating every inch of his skin.

“Do you take pleasure in frustrating me?”

“Yes, actually. I like making you blush redder than a sunset.”

He has to cover his face at that, feeling the hotness of his cheeks under his hands. “I thought you wanted sex.”

“No?” She kisses his fingers. “I just wanted company. Why’d you get that impression?”

He’s about ready to dissolve into a million pieces. “Asking me to carry you to bed, letting me undress you, and encouraging me as I kissed down your body wasn’t supposed to be _anything_ sexual?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

She’s clueless, somehow. She does this every time she appears in the middle of the night. Wakes him up, puts her hands all over him, and doesn’t realize she’s building his arousal. Doesn’t realize she makes him need her like sunlight, something to warm his cold blood.

“So do you want me tonight?”

“I always want you.”

He rolls his eyes, staring pointedly.

“Oh. Like that.” She settles against his chest. “I want you like that a lot, too.”

She lets him push her onto her back, his kiss slow and tender. Always slow, always careful for her. He sucks a red mark below her jaw that will remain in the morning. “You’re mine, sweetheart.” He marks a twin at her collarbone. “You belong to me.”

“I really like your moles.”

He groans and drops his head. He can feel darkness lace through his fingertips. “ _Rey_.”

“I’m sorry.”

"You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Please continue.”

He does, very willing to mark her body. She is his, a bright beam cutting through the darkness of his everlasting night. Her toes curl when his lips trail down the insides of her thighs. His fingers seek out her heat, meeting wetness and want. Her breath comes in a sharp spike when lips turn to teeth, marking here too. He wants her speckled with his teeth marks, decorated by his affection. She’ll turn up for her morning debrief covered in hickies from her lover, her other half.

“They know.” She trails her hands through his hair when his mouth meets his fingers. “They know it’s you.”

He speaks with his lips against her clit. “Did you tell?”

“No.” Her voice is breathy, climbing an octave. “They guessed. It wasn’t hard, especially when you seem to quell attacks after we see each other.”

“I don’t want you hurt.”

“I know. And that’s why they kn _ow—fuck._ ”

Her back arches, her voice patters out, and her thighs quake. His fingers are caught in the contractions, her pulse beating against his skin. He rubs her clit with a wet thumb, overstimulating her into a mess of breath and sweat. She can barely lift her head when he crawls up her body and covers her with his. His erection is hot on her belly and she cracks a smile when he settles up on his haunches.

“I like how hard you get for me.”

“And I like how much you scream, but I’m glad no one else can hear it.”

He pushes his tip against her entrance, drags it slowly up her lips. She’s still shaky, her thighs and calves clenching against his sides. When her tone becomes agitated, he thrusts inside, burying himself to the hilt. She jolts, a moaned _fuck_ escaping her lungs before it dissipates on her breath. He wants to snap his hips and fuck her into the sheets, but the mood tonight feels heavier, a need of a different kind emerging from the bones in his chest.

Kylo lowers himself to her and she wraps her legs around him, slides her hands up his back. They’re aligned now, nearly every inch of skin covered and consumed. His movement is slow and steady, rocking to the sound of her heartbeat. Rey’s lips search out his neck, kissing softly once before putting a lovebite under the hollow of his jaw.

“I love you.” It’s his voice saying the words, though he’d seen them in her head, was repeating them aloud. It takes him a little by surprise, the admission, but it draws such warmth from their bond that he won’t give it a second thought.

He loves her. He feels like he always has.

“I want you to come with me next time,” she says, her lips to his throat. “Come home to the light with me.”

“I’m not light, Rey.’ He stills a moment, gazes down with his brimstone and aureolin eyes. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been light in a long time.”

“It’s a dream, Kylo.” She wipes at a tear before it falls. “Just a dream.”

Oh, his beloved would burn him, damn him, like Icarus to the Sun.

“Hey.” He kisses her eyelids. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. Dark or light, Jedi or Sith. I’m here.”

“It hurts sometimes, knowing you hurt. Knowing I can’t make it better.”

“You being here is better.” He shifts, gauging her reaction to a thrust. When she waits without protest, he continues. “You loving me is all I need for now.”

His heart, for once in his life, doesn’t ache endlessly. He doesn’t feel alone, unloved, or abandoned. She has a hold on his mind, his soul. She keeps him warm, she holds him closely when he splits in two. Her arms are endless and in them, he will sleep. Deep in her ribcage, down below the beating of her ruby red heart, he will stay, wrapped in the blood of her, the life of her bones.

With her lips pressed to his, with her mumbles no longer heated—now they are soft, soothing, _I’m here, Kylo, I’m here. I love you, No matter what, I love you_ —he reaches a bittersweet climax. Their lips meet, teeth scraping to feel something real, to bite and scratch and say yes, _yes, we are alive_. We are here.

He rolls onto his side and pulls her into his chest. Exhausted both mentally and physically, all he can manage is weakly folding around her, crumbing under her touch. She wipes tears that have fallen onto his cheeks, tears he wasn’t aware he’d shed. Her mouth is sweet against their tracks, taking the salt and shame from his skin.

“Do you mean that?” he asks when he finds his voice. “That you’ll always hold some love for me?”

She nods. When she speaks, he can hear the choked tightness in her throat. “Always.”

He kisses her on the forehead, the cheeks, the tip of her nose. He needs her more than he’ll admit to the air and she knows, she can feel it through their bond, how it hums like an insect’s wings in her chest. He needs her deep in his monstrous core, in the darkness of his summer storm. She might chip his armor away one day; he might let the light back in, but not now. Not yet.

Now there is only time for their fleeting love, the small touches, the words and emotions pressed into skin, digging into flesh and bones. There is time enough for them.

And she will burn him to cinders, her light a blissful reprieve he wishes to touch but cannot. From the ashes, however, he shall rise.


End file.
